Leon leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the glowing system screen hovering in front of him.
—
New Quest: Survive the Noble Tournament
Objective: Win at least three matches.
Reward: Unlock new ability - Arcane Bulletstorm.
Penalty: Public humiliation and loss of status.
—
His smirk widened. “Public humiliation, huh? Whoever designed this system really knows how to push buttons.”
The upcoming tournament was a golden opportunity. In his previous life, Leon had always preferred working from the shadows, striking when least expected. But in this world, the rules were different. Here, reputation mattered—status meant power, and power dictated survival. Winning the tournament wouldn’t just unlock new abilities; it would cement his place among the nobility and grant him leverage in this ruthless world.
Leon stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the expansive Eryndor estate grounds. Beyond the gardens and fountains, the training arena bustled with young nobles practicing their swordplay and magic. He tapped his fingers against the cool glass, his mind racing through possible strategies.
“Three wins,” he muttered. “That’s all I need.”
He had no doubt in his skills, but this wasn’t the same as a silent assassination in the dead of night. This was a public spectacle, and he’d need to adapt quickly.
First, he needed to understand his new abilities inside and out.
Leon raised his hand, focusing once again.
Gun Manifestation.
A familiar pulse of energy coursed through him, and in an instant, the sleek silver pistol materialized in his grip. The arcane runes glowed faintly along its barrel, whispering secrets of power. He aimed it at the wall and willed a bullet into existence.
Magic Bullet Creation.
A shimmering, violet-tinged bullet formed at the muzzle, pulsating with latent energy. Leon studied it carefully. Unlike traditional ammunition, this bullet responded to his intent. He experimented, focusing his will to shape the energy—compressing it tighter, altering its properties.
Bang!
The shot fired, the bullet slamming into the wooden target across the room with a concussive force that left a smoldering dent. Leon nodded in satisfaction. With enough refinement, he could control the output, adjusting power and precision based on his needs.
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“Interesting... it’s more versatile than I thought.”
But firearms alone wouldn’t be enough. He needed to blend in, to keep the nobility from questioning the strange, unheard-of abilities he wielded. That meant mastering the sword—at least enough to put on a convincing act.
With that thought in mind, Leon turned and left his chambers, making his way to the estate’s training grounds.
----------------------------------------
The clang of steel echoed through the courtyard as nobles engaged in sparring matches, their movements precise yet predictable. Leon observed from the sidelines, noting their footwork, the rigid forms drilled into them from years of training.
“Formal... structured... weak,” he mused under his breath. He could exploit that.
“Watching won’t win you matches.”
Leon turned to see Celica Drayton standing nearby, arms crossed, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight. Her sharp emerald eyes assessed him with an unreadable expression.
“I prefer to learn before I act,” Leon replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something tells me you’d rather charge in headfirst.”
Celica huffed. “Confidence won’t help you in the arena. I saw what you did to Victor, but the tournament will be filled with people far stronger.”
Leon’s smile didn’t waver. “Then I’ll have to get stronger, won’t I?”
She studied him for a moment before tossing him a wooden training sword. “Let’s see if you can back up that talk.”
Leon caught the weapon with ease, twirling it experimentally in his grip. It was far from his preferred firearm, but adaptability was key.
Celica lunged without warning, her blade slicing through the air with precision. Leon sidestepped fluidly, his assassin instincts kicking in as he deflected her strike. Their swords clashed, the force vibrating through his arms.
She pressed the attack relentlessly, each strike faster than the last, forcing Leon to rely on his footwork and reflexes. Despite his unfamiliarity with the sword, his natural agility allowed him to evade most of her blows.
Celica narrowed her eyes. “You’re not fighting like a noble.”
Leon smirked, parrying another strike. “I aim to win, not impress.”
With a sudden pivot, he shifted inside her guard, tapping his wooden blade against her side before stepping back. “Point.”
Celica exhaled sharply, stepping back. “Not bad. Where did you learn to move like that?”
Leon shrugged. “Trade secret.”
She eyed him warily, then nodded. “You’re different from before, Leon. If you’re serious about the tournament, meet me here tomorrow at dawn. You need proper training.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll think about it.”
Celica walked away, and Leon watched her go with a thoughtful expression. She could be useful, but he had to be careful not to reveal too much.
----------------------------------------
That night, Leon sat cross-legged on his bed, the system screen floating in front of him.
—
Status:
Name: Leon Eryndor
Class: Arcane Marksman
Abilities:
* Gun Manifestation
* Magic Bullet Creation
Current Quests:
* Survive the Noble Tournament (0/3 Wins)
* Daily Training Routine (Pending)
—
He closed his eyes, focusing on the memories from his past life—the countless battles fought in the shadows, the precision required to take out targets without a trace. Those skills would serve him well here, but he needed to blend them with his new abilities.
“Tomorrow, it begins.”
With a final glance at the glowing screen, Leon extinguished the candlelight and allowed sleep to claim him.
The tournament was fast approaching, and with it, the first true test of his new life.